


Appetizing: Appealing, Tasty, Flavorful

by holopansy



Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: Exhibitionism, Frerard, M/M, Oral Sex, POV First Person, POV Frank Iero, Popsicles, Revenge Era Frank Iero, Revenge Era Gerard Way
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-11
Updated: 2020-06-11
Packaged: 2021-03-04 05:15:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,866
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24658195
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/holopansy/pseuds/holopansy
Summary: Twink Frank teasing Gerard during a friendly game of Apples to Apples and then getting what is coming to him.
Relationships: Frank Iero/Gerard Way
Comments: 1
Kudos: 30





	Appetizing: Appealing, Tasty, Flavorful

**Author's Note:**

> Senior killjoys gc was theorizing about a frerard sex tape and this was borne out of me not believing that they would have a "traditional" sex tape.
> 
> I cannot believe I'm posting this...

It’s 85 degrees outside at 11 pm and we just came back from the gas station, arms loaded with snacks, cigs, and other assorted treats to enjoy while we lounge around at Bob’s. We have a couple days off from touring, and tonight is the first night of 2 days off. It’s so fucking hot tonight, and of course, Bob’s AC is broke. Even with the windows open and the large box fan on high, (you know the one, I’m convinced that every single American has owned the same kind at some point in their life), it’s still stifling. Among the doritos, diet coke, slushies and airheads is the cherry-flavored double popsicle that I bought for two dollars. I think it might be worth much more by the time the night is over. 

I grab a bowl from the wooden cupboard in the kitchen, and plop down right next to you. You’re engrossed in your phone, and put your arm around me without even looking up. I try to open the plastic package but my fingers are too sore, at least you’re always such a sweetheart and are willing to help me out. 

“Hey, Gerard, can you open my popsicle for me?” 

You look over at me immediately, and I place the package in your outstretched hand. After ripping the package open, you hand it back to me and I use my fingers to break the softened stick of sugar and ice apart into two separate pieces. I lick off the tips of my pointer fingers and thumbs, watching you in my peripheral vision. You’re already focused intently on me, but you’re not trying to let the others know and I’m not letting you know that I’m aware of it. 

“Okay, do you all know how to play Apples to Apples?” Bob says, dealing out 5 cards to each one of us.

I look at you and lick one long stripe from the base to the tip of the popsicle, maintaining eye contact.

“Yeah, mom would make Gerard and I play it for hours when it first came out.” 

You turn your head quickly at the sound of your name, and I can see the faint blush coloring your cheeks. 

“Yeah, and I would always win!” 

“Shut up, Gerard! I’m gonna kick your ass this time.” 

“We’ll see about that,” you say. I agree with Mikey. If things go as planned, you’re not going to be winning - at least not at Apples to Apples. 

I don’t want to waste a lot of time eating the first popsicle, as I have another one that is quickly melting in the stuffy room, even with me directly in front of the fan. I lick from the bottom of the popsicle once more, curling my tongue around its width as best as I can, collecting droplets of syrup. 

“Phony: False, artificial, imitation,” Bob announces. 

I open my lips into a small “o” and slowly slide down the popsicle, and then back up again, making obscene slurping noises that are slightly covered up by the chorus of Where Eagles Dare. You quickly pick a card, flicking it down onto the coffee table, and pinch your nose. 

Licking across the seam from where the two pieces broke apart, I lean into you and place a card down. I’m definitely going to win this round. 

“Okay, everyone has a card in?” 

A chorus of “yes”, one sounding weaker than the others (and not from singing one’s heart out at our show today).

“Phony,” Bob shuffles the cards and flips over the first one. 

“Televangelists. Not bad,” He flips over the next card. 

“Alien Abductions. False. Aliens are real as fuck. Next!” 

“Bigfoot. Agreed!” 

“Bro, he’s totally real!” Ray interjects. 

“Shut up, Ray. Your dog was not killed by Bigfoot. Your dog died of old age.” 

“I refuse to hear it!” Ray argues

Bob rolls his eyes and flips over the last card. 

“George W. Bush. I don’t even need to think about this one. George W. Bush wins.” 

I pull the popsicle out of my mouth (slowly) and raise my fist in triumph. 

“Nice one, Frank.” He places the green description card in front of me, and we all grab another red card. 

Ray pulls a green card from the pile. 

“Beautiful: Pretty, lovely,” he reads.  
I nibble the tip of the popsicle, pretending to contemplate which card I’m going to choose - all of them suck so I decide on throwing in a random one. You’re biting your lip and you start to bounce your leg, which I know means that I’m _really_ getting inside your head (and not the one on your shoulders…) 

When we’ve placed all of our cards on the table, Ray has read out “Shoplifting,” “Jennifer Lopez,” “A princess,” and “Demi Moore,” and chosen J-Lo to no one’s surprise, giving Mikey his first win, I notice a drop of sweat sliding down the left side of your face.

“Gerard, are you hot? Do you want some of my popsicle?” I ask, widening my eyes like an innocent schoolgirl, and then poking out my tongue to lick along my upper lip. 

“N--no. I’m okay,” you stutter. 

“Alright, just let me know if you want any.” 

It’s my turn to read the description card. I bite the popsicle and quickly finish it; playing out the round in less than two minutes. I still have one more popsicle and it’s really starting to melt. 

I pick it up, and immediately deepthroat it. The high heat in the room doesn’t permit me any other choice. It’s so sweet and cold, the perfect complement to you. I’m doing this for your benefit but that thought sends a jolt of desire between my legs. Making eye contact, I drag my reddened lips back up, slurping even louder than before. The mixture of sugar, fruit juice and water starts to trail down my fingers, one large drop streaming into my cupped palm and down my wrist. My other hand has my cards in them, so I lift my hand, our eyes still locked on one another’s, and lap up the red line. You let out a breathy sigh, and tear your eyes away, but the arm around my shoulder tightens and your fingers dig into my shoulder. 

“Um, okay. Swift: Quick, speedy, express.” 

I look at my cards and cackle. There’s no way I’m not going to win this round. 

Everyone places down their cards, and as suspected, I win with “The JFK Assassination.” 

We continue playing, and I continue to messily suck on the popsicle, not even attempting to be sly anymore. When it’s your turn to announce again, I twirl the wooden stick between my thumb and forefinger with the popsicle pressed against my pouted lips, pretending to think. When you decide on the winner of the round, you throw your cards down and announce that you’re going for a smoke. 

“I’ll come with you,” I say, and follow you through the living room and out the back door, popsicle in hand. 

I shut the door behind us, and immediately you grab my right wrist. 

“Frankie, are you trying to give me a fucking heart attack?” 

“No idea what you’re talking about, Gerard.” 

You cover my hand with your own and push the bottom of the popsicle up so you can grip the stick and throw it on the ground. 

“Hey! I wasn’t finished with that!” 

“Oh, yes you were, you tease.” 

You press your lips against mine, getting them covered in cherry-flavored saliva, and grab my jaw roughly with your right hand. I open my mouth, allowing you to slip in your tongue, and move my left hand to your hip and drag it to your ass. You kiss me sweetly, with light presses and gentle glides, a contradiction to the way you’re gripping my hand and holding my jaw. 

After a few seconds, you pull away.

“You’re going to suck my cock. Right now. Get on your knees.” 

I hesitate for a split second - I didn’t think that I would rile you up this much. 

“I mean it. You wanna show off how talented that mouth is in front of everyone, you can put it to good use right now. Not later when we’re done playing the game, not later at the hotel, but now.” 

Your voice gets more stern as you speak, and I can’t deny you when you speak to me like that.

I drop to my knees, and start to unbutton your jeans, as you run a hand through my hair and pull out your phone. 

“What are you doing?” 

“You look so pretty, baby. Let me get a video.” 

I really shouldn’t let you, but it’s pretty dark, your camera quality is pretty shitty, and yeah, I kinda have an exhibition kink.

I pull down the zipper and free your cock.

“Fuck, you’re hard.” 

“Yeah. Put your hands behind your back. I only want you to use your mouth.” 

I immediately wrap each hand around the opposite forearm, and lick along the bottom of your cock. 

“Come on, sugar. We can’t be out here long.” 

“Use me.” 

You groan, and the hand tangled in my hair slips to the back of my head. I incrementally widen my lips as you glide into me, every inch of your skin feeling the glassy smoothness of the inside of my mouth and my lips feeling every inch of your skin. You repeat the action several times, speeding up, and then finally pushing yourself far into the back of my throat. Pulling my hair, you start to thrust into me, quickening your pace.

“ _Jesus_ , your mouth is like velvet…” I look at you, doe-eyed, with spit dripping down my chin.

“Oh _babe_ the way you look at me. Fuckkkk,” the last syllable stretches out roughly. 

You drive your hips forward a few more times, and with a final moan, long and low, you release into my mouth, hot and bitter. As you pull out, a little bit of your cum starts to drip out with it, and you free my hair from your hand to collect it up and push it back into my mouth, not letting me spill a drop. You press the “stop” button on your phone, and help me back up. 

“That was so good, sweetheart. You were amazing.”

You cup the front of my jeans and raise an eyebrow, questioning. I whimper. 

“I know, honey. I’ll go inside and you collect yourself. I’ll return the favor when we get back to the hotel. I think I wanna spread you out, kiss and lick every inch of your delectable body, and make you tremble for me. Does that sound nice?” 

I nod, and fumble in my jeans for a cigarette so that I can calm myself down enough to look presentable in front of everyone when I come back inside. You kiss the top of my head and open the door. 

  
…………

“Appetizing: Appealing, tasty, flavorful.” Bob reads. 

You and I look at each other. Your eyes sweep down my body and you lick your lips, as if to say “I can think of something _appetizing_.”

So can I.


End file.
